


Threads

by Monna99



Category: Naruto
Genre: A snippet of a beginning, M/M, More like pre-Kakashi/Iruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99
Summary: Kakashi barely knew Umino Iruka. A single thread linked their lives, that was all. Before Naruto had become his student, he’d never really paid him any attention.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Threads

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet. A snapshot.

The fixed, glazed look in those brown eyes angered him. The man had been staring into the flames for the past twenty minutes which was precisely how long Kakashi had been standing in the shadows observing him. Empty bottles of sake lay scattered all around. 

He wondered how long the man had been out there, drinking alone. Remembering alone. Kakashi barely knew Umino Iruka. A single thread linked their lives, that was all. Before Naruto had become his student, he’d never really paid him any attention. But he hadn’t been able to shake the memory of Iruka’s strained smile the week before. Well, that was hardly a cause for too much concern. Everyone had the occasional difficult day. 

Then during the mission it had struck him. Of course. The anniversary of the darkest day in recent village history had been nearing. That’s what that look had been about, that’s why the smile Iruka had aimed his way had been nothing but a perfunctory twitch — nothing at all like his usual glowing grin, bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Not that Kakashi noticed. 

It was late now, past midnight and the campfire was dying down, doing little to ward off the chill in the air. As the jounin watched, Iruka shivered, vacant expression unchanging. 

That was enough. Kakashi stepped forward, tired of watching. “Umino-san.”

It took several seconds — an eternity — for those eyes to blink. The man glanced up, hands belatedly fumbling at his kunai pack. The sight infuriated Kakashi but he bit his tongue against the words that wanted to tear free. Finally, recognition set in and Iruka stopped pawing at his weapons. “Oh, it’s just you, Hatake-san.” The tone was detached, listless. 

“Yes, just me,” he agreed tightly, ego stinging, but that was unimportant at the moment. “What the _hell_ are you doing out here?” he demanded savagely, despite his best intentions. “You’re outside the village boundaries and completely drunk. You’re defenseless.”

There was no response and he took a breath before he said something he might regret. Not that it mattered, trashed as he was, Iruka was unlikely to remember anything. Within moments, he was back to gazing at the flames, seemingly forgetting about the other man again.

Kakashi sighed, letting go of his anger. He sat down next to Iruka, their arms pressed together and tossed more wood onto the fire, watching the sparks fly as the flames hissed and spat, embers dying as they drifted toward the river of stars overhead. “Tell me about them,” he requested quietly, his breath visible in the hanging chill. 

Iruka was silent so long he thought maybe the other man hadn’t heard him, but, finally, he tore his gaze from the flames, truly registering the jounin for the first time. “Hatake-san.”

“In the flesh.” His tone was slightly sardonic. “I don’t suppose you brought any food?” Judging from the bottles scattered around them, Iruka had been out there for quite some time, and he doubted the man had eaten anything.

“Food?” Iruka shivered again, then blinked, gaze clearing completely. “No. Are you hungry?”

Kakashi shook his head hopelessly, though Iruka seemed to take it as an answer. He didn’t correct the chuunin and instead pulled off his pack and unrolled the light blanket in his supplies, tossing it over the shivering form. “Keep it,” he growled as Iruka began to protest. “I’d rather you don’t die of exposure. It’ll mean a mountain of paperwork for me if I have to write that up.”

“Right.” Iruka’s lips quirked and he deliberately leaned more heavily into the jounin. 

Kakashi contained his surprise to a raised eyebrow. He and Umino were hardly bosom buddies. In fact, he had no idea why the hell he hadn’t been able to get the chuunin out of his head during his mission, and he didn’t know what the hell he was doing out there now. Surely Umino had actual friends to whom he’d prefer to talk? But none of them were there now. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell everyone you’re a sap who goes around saving drunken shinobi from a slight chill.” He chortled, inviting Kakashi to share in the joke, not seeming to notice the jounin’s lack of amusement. “Hatake Kakashi, the savior of drunks.” He raised the bottle again. It took him a second to realize there wasn’t a bottle in his hand. “Oh.” He blinked down and flexed his fingers, frowning. “Where—”

“You finished it,” Kakashi supplied helpfully. “I don’t think you have anything else to drink.” He dumped the half-full bottle he’d stolen from Iruka on the ground behind them, as he had the other four unopened ones without a twitch of remorse. Iruka did not need to drink his pain into oblivion, that way lay a path of no return. Into the man’s still-bewildered silence, he added, “The Uzumaki kid was telling me about you.”

Iruka’s head snapped up and a grin lit his face. “Naru …?” He frowned and rubbed at his head. “Naruto.”

Kakashi gave a short nod. “He’s a good kid.”

Lips, a little blue from the cold, curved into something doting and gentle. So he was a nostalgic drunk as well; it could’ve been worse, he could’ve been the singing kind. “He is,” Iruka agreed softly. “He’s such a good kid.”

“Because you were there for him,” Kakashi said, “to help him work past his pain.”

Iruka frowned, having trouble following the conversation. After a few moments he shook his head. “Naruto was always a good kid. Always. And strong.”

“Sure, but even strong people need help sometimes, right?” 

Iruka swallowed loudly, expression becoming uneasy, uncertain. “Right. Sometimes.”

Kakashi hummed agreement and went rifling through his bag again. He pulled out a squashed, unappetizing ration bar. Better than nothing. He tore open the wrapper and handed it to Iruka who took it in quiet surprise. 

“Umm …”

Kakashi picked up a long stick and poked at the logs. “Eat.” Sparks flew again and scattered on the wind. 

“I don’t understand ….” He trailed off, eyes on the poor excuse for nutrition. 

“Ration bars? I always thought they were pretty self-explanatory.”

Umino huffed. He turned his head and studied the jounin, gaze piercing, eyes clear as though he weren’t drunk. The slight sway gave him away. “I don’t understand why you’re here.” His words were too crisp, the enunciation too pronounced for someone sober. 

Kakashi grinned faintly. “I happened to be walking this way.”

The crackle and pop of the fire and the still silence beyond were the only sounds as Iruka frowned, trying to determine if that answered his question. “You could’ve kept walking.”

The man might have been drunk, but he was hardly dulled. Kakashi didn’t know himself why he was there; or rather, maybe that’s why he was there — to figure out what the hell was so special about this particular chuunin. “You looked too pathetic sitting here alone, shivering and whimpering into your sake,” he said simply.

Iruka blinked at him for several seconds — then shoved him off the log in retaliation. 

Kakashi blinked up at him. “Ow.” He dug a tiny rock out of his hand with great care and Iruka chuckled but still looked slightly sorry as he reached out a hand to help Kakashi up. His coordination was off so he ended up smacking the jounin in the face instead, but it was the thought that counted. “Double ow.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Finally, he grabbed the edge of Kakashi’s vest and yanked, hauling him onto the log. Kakashi let the momentum push him against Iruka and he threw an arm over the man’s shoulders under the guise of catching his balance. 

Iruka sighed and let his head fall onto Kakashi’s shoulder. The jounin’s fingers tightened, their combined warmth helping to dispel the worst of the cold. Kakashi turned his head slightly and his nose brushed Iruka’s forehead. “Let’s go home,” he murmured. 

Iruka nodded but curled closer. “In a minute.”


End file.
